Carl Grimes Imagines ➹ Smut&Fluff

The Suicide of Carl Grimes (Fucked Up and Twisted Fluff)

If you are triggered by  suicidal themes please do not read this chapter. I love you all. Stay safe and if you are at all struggling, I'm here.

The house was quiet and everything stood still. Even the children outside seemed to stop screaming and laughing. Each step you took felt heavy, Carl was always in the dining room when you got home from working a long day in the kitchen alongside Carol.

You drop your bags and begin to search the house. They were all empty, no trace of Carl. Your mind hurts you with disgusting thoughts of him out cheating on you. They left quickly. He would never.

Others substituted them. The one especially horrifying,
'What if he's dead?'

That one question ticked and banged at your skull. You looked around the corner to the last room left. It was the bathroom.

Every time you put your foot forward, you feel them dragging. The thoughts keep banging and banging. The image of your loving husband dead summoned tears to form at the corners of your eyes. Your hand gently holds the doorknob, and you try to open the door. You push, but it doesn't budge. The door was locked. You knock, "Carl are you in there?"

There was no answer.

"Baby, please answer me. I will knock this door down if I have to. Open the door."

More silence.

Your head hurts tremendously, and you start to bang against the door with your side. The banging does nothing. You back up and shove your whole body forward. You land on the ground with a loud smack. You get up quickly and start to panic. "Carl please! If you're in there let me in," your voice cracks and you shove your lips through the crack of the door.

"Carl please. Baby, be okay."

You back up and run towards the door. You kick your leg out, and your foot lands next to the door knob. The door goes flying inward.

The sight that was before you tortured your eyes. The smell of death filled your nostrils. Carl Grimes, your once loving, nurturing husband, now a corpse with a pale, dead face, lying in a bathtub. You scream, but not a single sound comes from your mouth. It was silent, all but a ringing in your ears. The man you loved was gone. Forever. Not by a walker, but by himself.

You crawl towards him. His eyes were closed, and his mouth was slightly open. One word replays in your head multiple times like a slow, taunting, broken record,

Why?

You never once even thought Carl was capable of doing this to himself. He was always a bright and lively person. Even on his rough days, you knew he would never think of ending his own life.

It proves that people are capable of things you never knew they were capable of doing.

You look at him with sadness spilling out of your eyes. There was nothing happening inside your head.

Three pills sit on the floor on top of a piece of paper. You pick it up and read the handwriting that was Carl's. The ink on the paper was slightly smudged, but readable.

Hello person who's reading
this.

Congratulations! You found me first. You're most likely my wife.
(Y/N). If so, hi baby girl. I'll miss you, and I'll always love you. I hope you do the same. You were never the cause. You're actually the person who kept me going. Your amazing smile, your gorgeous eyes, the way you held my hand, everything. You were my life. Please forgive me. I hope you don't hate me after this. It was for the best. I was just dragging you down. I'm sorry baby. Right now I'm sitting in a tub with about fifty pills sitting in my stomach. No going back now. Everybody else reading this, it's not your fault either. It's my own. Recently my mind has been feeding me dark thoughts, and I can't help but swallow them. I love you, (Y/N). And to everyone else, I'm sorry. I'm about to pull the trigger so I don't become one. I wouldn't leave that to you baby.

Probably chillin' with Satan,
Carl Grimes

You stare at the paper and set it aside. You look at Carl's peaceful face, and smile.
'Maybe he's just.. sleeping.'

You begin to bawl again, what a foolish way to hide the fact that he's dead. Aimless waves of hurt crash your head and heart. You pull your knees up to your chest. You reach out to Carl's limp hand and squeeze it. For some reason, you didn't want to leave. You wanted the presence of Carl next to you. At the same time, you wanted to find help. Torn, you take the gun on the floor, rest the barrel on your temple, and pull the trigger.

If there are any mistakes, forgive me. It's late and I'm extremely tired. Remember, suicide not only hurts you, but the ones who care about you. Think before you attempt. I love you all. Take care of yourselves, and of course, try to stay happy.

:) :) :) :) :) :)